#fights
We all lose when we fight
We're all wasted when we **** each other
And when we unnecessarily destroy nature
We become our own enemies
For nothing, we waste our energies
Our youth and our vital resources
For nonsense, we destroy the right
To live, to love, and to enjoy life
It's an error, a mistake, a major gaffe
To want to destroy our fellow human beings
It's serene and divine when the rooster sings
When the remaining feline family follows suit
It is wonderful when one of us wears a nice suit
Instead of wearing the fatigues and carrying heavy guns
Like ants who are shopping for the coming winter season
My brothers and sisters of the world, common sense and reason
Will always prevail. We **** ourselves, every time we fight
Let's carry the torch of peace. In the dark, let's shine the light.
Let's stop acting like sick sore losers
Let's stop this negative trend at once
Let's behave like true and real winners
By loving each other. Let's not lose an ounce
Of our precious blood over stupid wars
We are civilized. We are all humans with powers
Our blood is red, not black, and not white
We all lose when we fight.
Copyright © April 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 5:32 AM UTC
I'm caught in the middle of everything,
Everything bad,
People are tense and angry,
Even thought it wasn't my fault I still have to deal with the affects of it,
Not my fault but my problem to solve,
They need to get their **** together,
I don't have the key,
I'm simply a teen trying to pass school,
Even the dog doesn't want to be in my presence,
I feel like ****
My eyes hurt,
I can't cry,
I'm forced to be the person who solves it who keeps the house together,
Soon I'll have to cook dinner not because I want to but becaus eif I don't they won't eat,
Because I'm the only one who can put a meal together when she's gone,
Because if I wasn't here to cook they'd get drive through or not eat,
Because they "don't have the time" to cook,
Because when she's gone I have to step in as the "mom",
Because my real mom left to take care of herself once,
I have to fill in because they can't do it themselves,
I'm caught in a fight I'm not a part of,
Something I didn't cause,
Can't leave,
Forced to be caught.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 4:33 PM UTC
We are fighting again.
The takeout in front of us has gone cold.
She asks me what I want
But it’s the last year I’m thinking of.
Laughing with my new friends,
Sailing at twenty miles an hour,
And now, biking.
Biking away with the ache in my legs
That‘ve been holding me up for so long now.
It’s those moments that make this worth it.
What do I want?
I want a lot of things.
To live. To die. To swim, or stay dry.
It doesn’t matter what I say:
We all float down here;
With the things that eat whale corpses, dragging us down.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 12:09 AM UTC
You walked up to me this morning and told me it was you or her.
I chose you out of habit, not out of choice.
I felt pressured to choose you.
Why do I have to choose between you two?
I don't know what happened
I thought we were okay
Why are we choosing sides now
Why do I have to choose?
I wasn't in the drama, I don't know why I have to choose.
I chose you, in 100 different lives I would choose you
Why can't I be friends with her too?
Why are you making me choose?
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 10:51 AM UTC
you tell me who's being the *****
you tell me
you tell me why you make me have to feel its my fault
you tell me why the blame is never on you
tell me
tell me why?
why is it such a terrifying feeling inside your bones
that your wrong and you hurt someone
you make me try to act like the villain
but I'm not
I didn't do ******* anything
so tell me
you tell me
why its always me?
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 7:00 PM UTC
Shattered glass on the side of a road.
Thrown out of a car window.
By a drunk.
On a highway.
Was once filled.
Once used and useful.
A bottle of *****
Chilled.
And bought when needed.
When one needs to forget.
When one's mind has become their worst enemy.
Their own mind.
And it plays their worst memories.
Like a sick and twisted *** tape.
Haunting.
Like those nights.
Words, screams, shouts.
Glass breaking, doors slamming, knives slicing.
Sweat dripping, tears dropping, blood spilling.
Then the silence.
And the recovery.
Though that's not what it really is...
Shattered glass on the side of the road.
Not from a bottle.
From a car window
A car with its bonnet a tree.
And a smiling dead body in the driver seat.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 4:08 AM UTC
There it goes.
I tried—
thrice—
to catch it.
Slipped past me
like that summer
in the rain.
Wasted.
Desolate.
Alone.
It went away in tears.
They stream
down my dusky face,
slide
down the neck
where my shame hides.
You see,
Mother—
I am not blind.
I see it too:
a mirror to my being,
held up
in nails.
It’s vile.
It moves on its own.
And yes—
I hate me
just as much
as you do.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:56 PM UTC
Three blind men touched an elephant one day,
Each judged the animal in their own way.
One felt the leg and boldly cried,
“A rough, strong tree trunk, broad and wide!”
Another touched the tusk and cried,
“So smooth and sharp from every side!”
The third held the tail and gave a sigh,
“It’s thin and hairy, like rope swinging by.”
All three were right, yet all were blind,
None saw the whole with an open mind.
They argued loud, in anger and might...
Each defending only their slice of sight.
Isn’t it just like the world today?
Where people fight over what they pray?
Different names, but lessons the same,
Still we battle, Come on it's 2025!!
What a shame!!
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 10:30 AM UTC
They call them the Kings of Bones,
torching the villages and the homes.
Saying they’re done with the ******* and moans
they’re expected to hear when upon their thrones.
So tell me is a battlefield even real
if it isn’t littered in blood, limbs and steel?
The bone kings only receive their end of the deal
if they offer up those who support them for the next meal.
So with scraped and ****** knees,
how are they to pray or please?
If our heads are always bent,
does worship even hold any sentiment?
So tell me is it really a done deal,
just like in guns, germs and steel?
The bone kings take what they want, act as they feel.
They tear all apart and neglect to place a seal.
They’re all too busy reading out of date scripture
that they’re all missing the blatantly clear picture;
Hell is empty as the devils walk the earth.
Everyone wants to rule the world,
trade gold for diamond and diamond for pearl;
doesn’t realize the reverse of worth.
Now they’re wearing collarbones around their neck,
and accessorizing every vertebrae as a ring.
Assuming this cruelty grants them respect,
really at best it’s just straight vulgarity.
But each King stands alone,
forever isolated and on their own.
So they polish a fresh bone
just to add to their skeletal throne.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
Let’s try without needless words,
Unnecessary pauses and empty doubts
To finish out fairy tale, titled “Unlove”.
Let’s stop all fights. We have no other outs.
Let’s try without needless tears
To recognize that we're both orphaned.
We’ve been repaid wholly for our Unlove:
Our hearts are faded, our souls're ossified.
Let’s try without needless words
To say the only one and single phrase:
“Forgive me for this poor Unlove!”
It’ll be the rare truth without any haze.
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 4:53 PM UTC
Give me the sea and I'll drink it
all of it
Give me the sky and I'll blot it out
cut it out
leave the gaping earth barren of its liquid dressing
and leave the sky naked of its blue face
there is no compare
that is
not to say you are not enough for me
not at all
it is to say you are more than I could have desired
more
than I could have dreamed
and I do not tire of you
not in my darkest moments
when I'm stretched thin
and there is no longer
a devil-may-care draped about my addled mind
when my patience snaps
when my jaw clamps
my eyes droop
my brain thumps against my skull
not even then
with the last vestiges of civility held in grasp
not even then can I think to lash out at you
not even when you poke
or ****
plod about my sensibilities
maim my sensitivities
not even then
not even when you roll your eyes
give me that long 'hmmmm - really...'
I don't give in to the nagging,
nigh satisfying itch to shake with rage
and curse everything that stems from the womb
I am cool as a cucumber
placid as a windless lake
I roll my shoulders
flutter my eyelashes
look you up and down
say,
'My... my... tired aren't you?'
Your shoulders slump
Your efforts to topple me abate
You nod your head
curl up on my lap
isn't it
funny
how comforted we become
when we are offered solace
in exchange for an argument
that neither of us
would win?
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 4:06 AM UTC
The touch of her hand on mine, fingers clasped tightly.
Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing the life out of me.
Her lips, soft and light as heaven's touch, they part, and
God, you always sound like an angel when you tell me you love me.
I wish I'd remember when we argue, so I can change.
I wish I didn't only remember these things after we fight, maybe things would end differently.
I'm afraid one day it will be too late.
Please, never let it be too late.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 10:52 PM UTC
I’m in the kitchen at Lisa’s. Her little sister Leeza enters, her pale, freckled face redder than usual. “Liza is the bossiest sister..,” Leeza says, slamming the cupboard door after grabbing a box of Fruity-Pebbles-cereal like she’s choking the life out of it.
Lisa enters from the hall, her jaw set with tension, she waves her “La Mer” makeup bag, wildly, letting its very existence, there in the kitchen, function as angry exposition. “YOU,” she practically screams and then shaking with outrage, she begins more calmly. “You can’t use someone else's makeup and ESPECIALLY not their brushes!!” She had begun under control but with each word her message grew emotionally.
“I didn’t hurt anything!” Leeza answered venomously back, giving as good as she got.
I lean with my **** against the waist high kitchen island, slowly letting myself slide down to where I’m not visible, into a sitting position on the floor, as the fight quickly escalates.
Have you ever been a guest somewhere, when there’s a sibling fight or other parents start yelling at a friend? All you can do is try and become invisible - or pretend to text on your phone like you can’t hear the turmoil.
I catch a motion out of the corner of my eye, it’s their mom, Karen, motioning me, with a side-bob of her head, into the living room. I quietly, crouchingly exit the kitchen - the fight reaching full, nuclear bloom.
I join her on a white sectional, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re far enough away from the action to feel uninvolved. I like Karen a lot. She's warm, open and always seems to be suppressing a smile when watching her girls. She’s a lawyer. “You’re officially part of the family,” she says, as she takes a sip of coffee, “they don’t fight in front of company.” I grin.
Somewhere just below the tumult, I hear a dad’s deep, male voice, “Excuse me?” he says, and the fight is instantly over. There is a moment of deafening quiet. “It’s NOTHING,” both girls say, a second later, in perfect, synchronized, bored-sounding unison.
Nov 24, 2021
Nov 24, 2021 at 7:49 AM UTC
When the darkness spreads and the screaming penetrates even my dreams
The seduction of empty space calls at me
It’s attraction is undeniable
My daydreaming naturally becoming more visual
The flavour of death
An ecstasy like no other
My strongest and last ******
So many options but only one to be my sinful romance
Will it be:
My tanned yellow appearance if I take too much
The chalk outline if I take a nudge
The rose stained bath if I dig a bit more
My neck ornament when I hit the floor
The gruesome distance a burst pipeline will go
The sweating and shaking from a hypo
Or simply a collision with a glare of light
Or maybe the ground was never my right
And I would prefer the pull from my lungs’ weight
or the heat off my skin as it ablates
Or maybe you would prefer an accident
Maybe that will help you cover your names
Don’t worry I won’t leave a note
I’ll let your guilt engross you
And when it gets too much you can use your sorry excuses to help suit you
You can blame my unstable personality
My weak mental health
My poverty of speech
But at least you’ll think twice the next time you speak
This will be my sweet everlasting revenge
Jun 28, 2021
Jun 28, 2021 at 5:11 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, a dream one week ago:9
when that world came to an end
I saw all the colors in hindsight-eyes bend
cheetahs brush the graves on a pupil in the browns they fade
kisses planted on necks for a goodbye imaginary mates no meet made
stake on the runs
cars jogging in place neon lights with no sun
the packed stuff stumble on frights and screams I can't shut
the hell does it mean when you're choked on fatal without a but
doors abandon left sensations in scare in must
breathes don't do any when opened after this disastrous dust
when the world came to a salty end
a smile in me shattered on no coming backs forever send
-------ravenfeels
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 1:24 PM UTC
It usually starts like this
My heart beats loud and angry
cracking my bones crushing my chest
My breath escapes me
empties my lungs as if i have run
My mind creates a thought
a terrible thought
then exchanges it for another
and another and another
moving too fast making it hard
to follow the line of thought
that causes my lips to bleed
from where my teeth bite them
and to others i look calm
barely pensive
maybe stressing
but my body is still like rock
and hot like fever
it can't catch up with my thoughts
and the voices in my head
i didn't do enough i didn't stop it
i didn't care enough why didn't i drop it
it should be me suffering not you
suffocating in cluttering feelings
and conversation smothering
everything you are
And then
I hear you
and You are fine
just too busy
to answer my calls
So it falls
My chest from where it was tensing
And I
breath
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
Referees mismanage oversight
incorrect calls lower credibility
faith in justice dissolves into the ice
agency is taken into padded hands
vigilantes slash and spear.
Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check
malignant hostility boils over
leather armor is removed
interphalangeal joints meet mandible
type O negative paints a jersey
haymakers take bizarre trajectories
to avoid helmets and visors
the face is homebase to ingrain pain.
Violence subverts gamesmanship
players must be taken off ice
to be put on ice
otherwise brawls become overabundant
and destroy the integrity of the sport
yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying
—considering the context—
so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future
we organize an impenetrable perimeter
once we've acclimated to penalty kills.
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 4:01 PM UTC
You are a bullet,
harmless, fascinating, daunting -
when unprovoked and on your own.
Except maybe a choking hazard.
Nice to touch and feel on my skin, but cold.
Give you power,
or a gun,
your aim is never accurate but
deadly all the same.
I can replay it - you charging
at the TV with incredible speed -
in slow motion.
The sound that followed was deafening.
It was an ear ringing, catastrophic explosion.
It was your fist meeting the screen,
us screaming and me crying,
on my cut up and bruised knees,
begging for you not to leave.
I had a tendency to chase after bullets
and a desire to fix the mess they would create.
I didn’t realise that I was the one being chased.
And that I was my mess I had to clean up.
I’ve stopped going after bullets.
(But now I play with fire.)
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC
Recipe for Disaster:
1 cup blame, directed away from yourself
2 tsp of emotional manipulation
1/4 cup of freshly squeezed fake apologies
1/8 tsp of spite
3 cups of self-hatred, projected onto somebody else
1/2 cup of anxiety, rooted in insecurity
A pinch of miscommunication
1 tbsp of false hope
A healthy dash of passive aggression to taste
A splash of whiskey
-- halve the empathy
Directions:
1. Combine ingredients and simmer until completely evaporated.
2. Apologize and start again.
3. Repeat steps one and two.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 8:20 PM UTC
My mom, with the green
witch's casual, sour malice,
can verbally ****
But she is easily
deceived by disguise
- my body is a mask.
My submission is
but a costume - my calm
the offered lie.
I detest my own
pale, small, adolescent
answers - my weakness.
Sep 10, 2020
Sep 10, 2020 at 6:21 AM UTC
Today, you ask me what I’m on.
I say
Wouldn’t you like to know?
My friend,
Life comes and goes
I’m high off of my youth
Alive off summer nights
Mid-August fights
Tears shed, falling into my bed
Falling into your arms.
Tie-dye shirts, blue-eyed flirts, and mini skirts.
Tonight, I am drunk off your voice.
Dog days, Smoky haze
Tomorrow, I’m completely wasted off your laugh.
Mosquito bites, the same old fights,
I want brisk autumn nights
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 12:06 AM UTC
There ain't nothing wrong
with fighting, son.
It scares the children, sure,
but so, too, would anything
we try to shield them from.
Fighting fortifies the lively
as much as it destroys
the ignorant and apathetic.
Therefore protect your mind
against those poisons, and
purge them from others
when necessary.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 7:28 PM UTC
Your games and
childlike attitude
always put me
in a bad
mood.
It's like you
were trying your best
to leave a
permanent crease in
between my
brows.
- frown.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 9:07 PM UTC
I wonder, do you ever wonder?
How far we have come along.
With all those fights and in all those thunder.
We managed to live so long.
You made mistakes and yes I did blunder.
Still, we forgave, as we know where we belong.
I remember, you remember how we met at first.
It wasn't the best nor the worst.
We were happy keeping alive the thirst
Looking back, I see us in each day submerged.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 4:11 AM UTC